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My Documents
The paths of four family members diverge drastically when the U.S. government begins detaining Vietnamese Americans, in thissharpand touching novel about growing up atthe intersection of ambition and assimilation.
Ursula, Alvin, Jen, and Duncan grew up as cousins in the sprawling Nguyen family, but the truth about their family is much more complicated. Asyoungadults, they're on the precipice of new ventures—Ursula as a budding journalist in Manhattan, Alvin as an engineering intern for Google, Jen as a naive freshman at NYU, and Duncan as a promising newcomer on his high school football team. Their lives are upended when a series of violent, senseless attacks across America create a national panic, prompting a government policy forcing Vietnamese Americans into internment camps. Jen and Duncan are sent with their mother to Camp Tacoma while Ursula and Alvin receive exemptions.
Cut off entirely from the outside world, Jen and Duncan try to withstand long dusty days in camp, forced to work jobs they hate and acclimate to life without the internet. That is until Jen discovers a way to get messages to the outside. Her first instinct is to reach out to Ursula, who sees this as an opportunity to tell the world about the horrors of detention—and bolster her own reporting career in the process.
Informed by real-life events from Japanese incarceration, the Vietnam War, and modern-day immigrant detention, Kevin Nguyen gives us a version of reality only a few degrees away from our own—much too close for comfort. Moving and finely attuned to both the brutalities and mundanities of racism in America, M� Documents is a strangely funny and touching portrait of American ambition, fear, and family.The story of the Nguyens is one of resilience and how we return to each other, and to ourselves, after tragedy.
Ursula, Alvin, Jen, and Duncan grew up as cousins in the sprawling Nguyen family, but the truth about their family is much more complicated. Asyoungadults, they're on the precipice of new ventures—Ursula as a budding journalist in Manhattan, Alvin as an engineering intern for Google, Jen as a naive freshman at NYU, and Duncan as a promising newcomer on his high school football team. Their lives are upended when a series of violent, senseless attacks across America create a national panic, prompting a government policy forcing Vietnamese Americans into internment camps. Jen and Duncan are sent with their mother to Camp Tacoma while Ursula and Alvin receive exemptions.
Cut off entirely from the outside world, Jen and Duncan try to withstand long dusty days in camp, forced to work jobs they hate and acclimate to life without the internet. That is until Jen discovers a way to get messages to the outside. Her first instinct is to reach out to Ursula, who sees this as an opportunity to tell the world about the horrors of detention—and bolster her own reporting career in the process.
Informed by real-life events from Japanese incarceration, the Vietnam War, and modern-day immigrant detention, Kevin Nguyen gives us a version of reality only a few degrees away from our own—much too close for comfort. Moving and finely attuned to both the brutalities and mundanities of racism in America, M� Documents is a strangely funny and touching portrait of American ambition, fear, and family.The story of the Nguyens is one of resilience and how we return to each other, and to ourselves, after tragedy.
352 pages, Hardcover
Published April 8, 2025
69 people are currently reading
9,853 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 79 reviews
February 27, 2025
When dystopian books stop feeling quite so dystopian... yikes. To be fair, this book isn't dystopian as it is inspired by the very real Japanese incarceration in America, as well as modern-day immigrant detention. The idea that an entire group of people could be detained and imprisoned because of their race SHOULD be dystopian. Unfortunately, Nguyen's novel doesn't seem so far-fetched in the current state of politics.
This book hit all the notes for me and will be one of my top recommendations for some time.
**I received this advance copy free from One World via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.**
This book hit all the notes for me and will be one of my top recommendations for some time.
**I received this advance copy free from One World via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.**
April 14, 2025
Terrifying and heartbreaking
Shelved as '2025'
September 20, 2024📱 Thank you to NetGalley and One World
April 5, 2025
ARC gifted by the publisher & ALC by prhaudio
I flew through this dystopia of Vietnamese internment camps about race and privilege in a day. Fans of THE DREAM HOTEL (Laila Lalami) will find this book similarly compelling, chilling, and perhaps not so distant from the future. I especially appreciate how the author explores the outcome of 4 different siblings, 2 who look visibly asian with Vietnamese lastnames, and 2 wasians grew up with their white moms & are more white passing. It's a more commercial work written through multi-POV, and because of that it feel a bit more surface level if you're looking for a deep exploration of race.
I flew through this dystopia of Vietnamese internment camps about race and privilege in a day. Fans of THE DREAM HOTEL (Laila Lalami) will find this book similarly compelling, chilling, and perhaps not so distant from the future. I especially appreciate how the author explores the outcome of 4 different siblings, 2 who look visibly asian with Vietnamese lastnames, and 2 wasians grew up with their white moms & are more white passing. It's a more commercial work written through multi-POV, and because of that it feel a bit more surface level if you're looking for a deep exploration of race.
April 15, 2025
Nguyen creates a frighteningly realistic dystopian scenario in M� Documents. In response to 7 terrorist attacks on US soil by people with Vietnamese ancestry, the government mandates ethnically Viet Americans to detainment camps. This temporary holding will give the government and law enforcement to determine the level of threat Vietnamese people living domestically pose to America’s safety. Their incarceration repeats the historical internment camps for Japanese American citizens during WWII.
We enter the story through the perspective of a Vietnamese American family, particularly 2 half-sisters (through their absent biological father), Ursula and Jen. Before Viets are sent to detention centers, the sisters chase their respective dreams in New York: Ursula, a young professional in her early 20s, dreams of covering meaningful news worthy of a serious reporter; Jen, 6 years Ursula’s junior, starts college as an uninitiated freshman and seeks the approval of others, including Ursula. When the government asks the Vietnamese Americans to turn themselves in to law enforcement, Ursula and her full brother, Alvin, find themselves exempt because of their work; Jen, her mother, and her full brother, Duncan, become detainees at Camp Tacoma. M� Documents then unfolds the next two years of the sisters� lives, the camps� lifespan.
Although the two women who share cultural similarities start on different trajectories, the camps push their paths to not only resemble the other’s but overlap. Prior to Jen moving into Camp Tacoma, Ursula has little interest in fostering a meaningful relationship. However, the relationship shifts when Jen begins providing Ursula with exclusive insider information, functioning as the sole reliable source on life in detention, projecting Ursula into respected journalistic circles. As she moves up in rank on the outside, Jen hones her investigative work, too. She and friends on the inside officially work to disseminate propaganda; unofficially, they run the underground project, Korematsu. They resist authorities through their dissenting newspapers, which is named after the civil rights activist who refused the government’s incarceration camps for Japanese Americans in 1942.
Nguyen explores the ideas of the importance of sharing cultural information, using others� oppression for one’s gain, and telling a victim of trauma’s story without nuance. First, the distribution of culturally significant moments. This reminds me of Dua’s , created to distill globally consequential facts into weekly curated newsletters. Without a connection to the internet, Korematsu traffics cultural information through person-to-person hand-off. Moreover, the community’s transmission and access to culture “was the key to the Viet’s survival in camp, both as a way to make it through day to day and also as a way to finally make it out.� I wonder if Nguyen overstates this point; I will need to think about it more. Second, Ursula makes a habit of exploiting others� experiences. She secures a coveted position with the New York Times and signs a lucrative deal with Netflix. But she fibs about her close relationship with her half-brother Duncan, who was killed in Camp Tacoma, to lean into the narrative about the camp’s atrocities and austere conditions. Third, Jen is so devastated by her loss that she joins her father’s vagabond lifestyle. Yet, she refuses to leave joy and resilience out of her retelling of her experience. Nguyen feels the rich textures of the survivors� meaningful lives that do not cruelly dehumanize Vietnamese people.
The book’s premise remains intriguing to me. However, the characters and the story feel significantly underdeveloped, giving M� Documents a YA quality. I can’t think of one character whose situation (e.g., intentions, problems, possible solutions) is sufficiently explored. I can’t decide which gaps are the most significantly unsettling: the dad’s state before the camp, the mom’s condition after the camp, or the brothers� storylines, especially following Duncan’s death. Also, what happened to Dennis? My questions abound. As for the characters� physical descriptions, Nguyen’s four siblings sound like traditionally polished all-Americans. It’s a good thing Andrea Long Chu published Authority before M� Documents came out, or else she may have also come for Nguyen’s “mixed Asian� (to follow Chu’s “imperfect shorthand�) main characters who carry the weight of “fully Asian writers[’] . . . racial anxieties.� I rate M� Documents 1.5 stars.
We enter the story through the perspective of a Vietnamese American family, particularly 2 half-sisters (through their absent biological father), Ursula and Jen. Before Viets are sent to detention centers, the sisters chase their respective dreams in New York: Ursula, a young professional in her early 20s, dreams of covering meaningful news worthy of a serious reporter; Jen, 6 years Ursula’s junior, starts college as an uninitiated freshman and seeks the approval of others, including Ursula. When the government asks the Vietnamese Americans to turn themselves in to law enforcement, Ursula and her full brother, Alvin, find themselves exempt because of their work; Jen, her mother, and her full brother, Duncan, become detainees at Camp Tacoma. M� Documents then unfolds the next two years of the sisters� lives, the camps� lifespan.
Although the two women who share cultural similarities start on different trajectories, the camps push their paths to not only resemble the other’s but overlap. Prior to Jen moving into Camp Tacoma, Ursula has little interest in fostering a meaningful relationship. However, the relationship shifts when Jen begins providing Ursula with exclusive insider information, functioning as the sole reliable source on life in detention, projecting Ursula into respected journalistic circles. As she moves up in rank on the outside, Jen hones her investigative work, too. She and friends on the inside officially work to disseminate propaganda; unofficially, they run the underground project, Korematsu. They resist authorities through their dissenting newspapers, which is named after the civil rights activist who refused the government’s incarceration camps for Japanese Americans in 1942.
Nguyen explores the ideas of the importance of sharing cultural information, using others� oppression for one’s gain, and telling a victim of trauma’s story without nuance. First, the distribution of culturally significant moments. This reminds me of Dua’s , created to distill globally consequential facts into weekly curated newsletters. Without a connection to the internet, Korematsu traffics cultural information through person-to-person hand-off. Moreover, the community’s transmission and access to culture “was the key to the Viet’s survival in camp, both as a way to make it through day to day and also as a way to finally make it out.� I wonder if Nguyen overstates this point; I will need to think about it more. Second, Ursula makes a habit of exploiting others� experiences. She secures a coveted position with the New York Times and signs a lucrative deal with Netflix. But she fibs about her close relationship with her half-brother Duncan, who was killed in Camp Tacoma, to lean into the narrative about the camp’s atrocities and austere conditions. Third, Jen is so devastated by her loss that she joins her father’s vagabond lifestyle. Yet, she refuses to leave joy and resilience out of her retelling of her experience. Nguyen feels the rich textures of the survivors� meaningful lives that do not cruelly dehumanize Vietnamese people.
The book’s premise remains intriguing to me. However, the characters and the story feel significantly underdeveloped, giving M� Documents a YA quality. I can’t think of one character whose situation (e.g., intentions, problems, possible solutions) is sufficiently explored. I can’t decide which gaps are the most significantly unsettling: the dad’s state before the camp, the mom’s condition after the camp, or the brothers� storylines, especially following Duncan’s death. Also, what happened to Dennis? My questions abound. As for the characters� physical descriptions, Nguyen’s four siblings sound like traditionally polished all-Americans. It’s a good thing Andrea Long Chu published Authority before M� Documents came out, or else she may have also come for Nguyen’s “mixed Asian� (to follow Chu’s “imperfect shorthand�) main characters who carry the weight of “fully Asian writers[’] . . . racial anxieties.� I rate M� Documents 1.5 stars.
February 24, 2025
Part , part , My Documents is somehow a terrifying and yet, dull look at alternative outcomes from terrorism in the US. I don't mean dull in the sense that the book is unexciting, only that the response to thousands of US citizens being rounded up, stripped of their rights and homes, results in, well, nothing - just silence from the rest of the US. Of course we all know the famous saying - when they came for me there was no one left, and yet, we can see it happening now - everyone is just a little too scared to stand up for someone else or risk losing what little protection and privilege they have.
This would be such an excellent choice for a book club or group read. There are so many off-handed quotable lines and I suspect that different parts and characters will prick people in different ways.
I really enjoyed (and also was annoyed by) the ending and lack of a clear takeaway. I suspect that is the point - what was the point of imprisoning all these people - in this fictional world and also in the real world? What was gained? What was lost?
If you liked this, I also suggest .
This would be such an excellent choice for a book club or group read. There are so many off-handed quotable lines and I suspect that different parts and characters will prick people in different ways.
I really enjoyed (and also was annoyed by) the ending and lack of a clear takeaway. I suspect that is the point - what was the point of imprisoning all these people - in this fictional world and also in the real world? What was gained? What was lost?
If you liked this, I also suggest .
April 7, 2025
A gravely important book that will stay with me for a long time.
Kevin Nguyen’s characters feel full and real, his prose quickly captivating and his themes dystopian yet all too familiar. What a powerful commentary on the use of language to persuade and propagate, the narratives we tell ourselves and people without power. Who benefits? Who suffers? Who wins and loses?
“There’s the saying that history is always written by the victors. But that assumes a winner and a loser. A more accurate saying would be that history is a reflection of who had power, and how they flattered themselves.�
Kevin Nguyen’s characters feel full and real, his prose quickly captivating and his themes dystopian yet all too familiar. What a powerful commentary on the use of language to persuade and propagate, the narratives we tell ourselves and people without power. Who benefits? Who suffers? Who wins and loses?
“There’s the saying that history is always written by the victors. But that assumes a winner and a loser. A more accurate saying would be that history is a reflection of who had power, and how they flattered themselves.�
January 29, 2025
Thank you NetGalley for the ARC! This is an excellent book that I will definitely promote on my shelves. I would love to see students read it alongside the YA book Internment by Samira Ahmed to see how a similar theme can be expressed very differently. I deeply appreciate the family layers in this (Ursula---argh) and the examination of trauma reporting and dehumanization. Excellent writing too!
April 9, 2025
Thank you to One World and NetGalley for the free e-ARC in exchange for an honest review
DNFed at 33%. I was looking forward to this one SO much, but felt let down by it. I ended up liking the eerily believable dystopian premise--a terrorist threat in the near future causes the US government to jump to round up Vietnamese Americans in interment camps reminiscent of those used to detain Japanese Americans during World War II--far more than the way in which Nguyen executed the idea.
This is very much a character-driven, and not a plot-driven, novel, and this is to the story's detriment. The first fifth or so of the novel jumps back and forth between the perspectives of our four main characters: Ursula, Alvin, Jen, and Duncan. Except that I found these opening chapters boring and unsuccessful in giving me a clear idea of what these characters are like. These character sketches feel flat. All I learned from the beginning was that Alvin is your typical new tech bro in the Valley; Duncan is an athlete who is self-conscious about his size; Jen is a university student trying to find a community with her school's Asian American crowd and yearning for Ursula's regard; and Ursula... Ursula was probably the most interesting, because we spent the most time with her, but she's still just a basic budding journalist trying to make it big with a good scoop. It wasn't enough for me to know them, nor to feel anything for them.
Then suddenly the pivotal event of the terrorist attacks happened, and the book seems to skip all the important details to land, belly-flop, in the middle of the detention camps. We don't learn the details of why the terrorist attacks happened. Why were Vietnamese (Americans?) attacking? Beyond for the internment order, how did the rest of society respond?
Then we get to the internment camps and details grow even fuzzier. Apparently the camps were hastily put together, but that still doesn't excuse the fact that I am unclear what they look like. In what part of the country are they located? What is the terrain like? How big is the camp and how many people are detained there? What is the layout of the buildings? Nguyen unfortunately skips over all of the world-building and instead chooses to linger on storylines that feel detached due to the trouble I had with envisioning the camps. We start hearing about all the contraband that's being smuggled into the camps. (But what was security even like, to enable this to happen?) There's a smuggling operation that apparently runs very smoothly. (Huh??)
So... yeah. I had trouble believing the world that Nguyen attempted to paint a picture of. Combined with my inability to know and understand the four main characters, and the result was that it was all too easy for me to put this book down and never come back to it again.
DNFed at 33%. I was looking forward to this one SO much, but felt let down by it. I ended up liking the eerily believable dystopian premise--a terrorist threat in the near future causes the US government to jump to round up Vietnamese Americans in interment camps reminiscent of those used to detain Japanese Americans during World War II--far more than the way in which Nguyen executed the idea.
This is very much a character-driven, and not a plot-driven, novel, and this is to the story's detriment. The first fifth or so of the novel jumps back and forth between the perspectives of our four main characters: Ursula, Alvin, Jen, and Duncan. Except that I found these opening chapters boring and unsuccessful in giving me a clear idea of what these characters are like. These character sketches feel flat. All I learned from the beginning was that Alvin is your typical new tech bro in the Valley; Duncan is an athlete who is self-conscious about his size; Jen is a university student trying to find a community with her school's Asian American crowd and yearning for Ursula's regard; and Ursula... Ursula was probably the most interesting, because we spent the most time with her, but she's still just a basic budding journalist trying to make it big with a good scoop. It wasn't enough for me to know them, nor to feel anything for them.
Then suddenly the pivotal event of the terrorist attacks happened, and the book seems to skip all the important details to land, belly-flop, in the middle of the detention camps. We don't learn the details of why the terrorist attacks happened. Why were Vietnamese (Americans?) attacking? Beyond for the internment order, how did the rest of society respond?
Then we get to the internment camps and details grow even fuzzier. Apparently the camps were hastily put together, but that still doesn't excuse the fact that I am unclear what they look like. In what part of the country are they located? What is the terrain like? How big is the camp and how many people are detained there? What is the layout of the buildings? Nguyen unfortunately skips over all of the world-building and instead chooses to linger on storylines that feel detached due to the trouble I had with envisioning the camps. We start hearing about all the contraband that's being smuggled into the camps. (But what was security even like, to enable this to happen?) There's a smuggling operation that apparently runs very smoothly. (Huh??)
So... yeah. I had trouble believing the world that Nguyen attempted to paint a picture of. Combined with my inability to know and understand the four main characters, and the result was that it was all too easy for me to put this book down and never come back to it again.
April 4, 2025
The truth is what unites Asian Americans is racism. from M� Documents by Kevin Nguyen
We put Japanese Americans into camps after Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. And after 9-11 there was a backlash against anyone who even appeared to be of Middle Eastern or Muslim heritage. ICE arrests even legal immigrants if they are from Central America. M� Documents imagines America will always respond the same way–racial profiling and rounding up people we fear into camps or prisons.
In M� Documents, series of terrorist bombings perpetrated by people of Vietnamese heritage causes Congress to pass the American Advanced Protection Initiative, the AAPI. You know, the same initials as Asian American and Pacific Islander.
…”internment� was still a euphemism masking what it truly was: incarceration. from M� Documents by Kevin Nguyen
Vietnamese Americans are forced into makeshift, inadequate camps where suffering and violence and suicide abounds. One hundred thousand are in first generation VIetnamese American Jen’s camp. A black market rises disseminating computers and flash drives with entertainment and news. Jen writes for an underground camp newspaper and feeds stories to Ursula, her mixed race cousin who works for a newspaper, prompting a huge career boost.
Meantime, Jen’s brother Duncan finds fame on the camp football team. Ursula’s brother Alvin works for Google who protects him as essential–until he shares disturbing insider information with Ursula.
But Jen’s paper isn’t the only source of news in camp. Her competition sells disinformation, and resorts to violence when threatened.
Meanwhile, their father Dan, who was a child when his family fled after the Communists took over Saigon, is determined to escape the camps and disappears, living out of his truck. “To survive, you must be selfish,� his mother said as they fled Saigon. But Dan comes to understand that survival was not a selfish act–living was.
Truly disturbing, this dark humor novel about how one family experiences the worst racial policies America has ever enacted is an intense page-turner–and a warning.
Thanks to the publisher for a free book through NetGalley.
We put Japanese Americans into camps after Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. And after 9-11 there was a backlash against anyone who even appeared to be of Middle Eastern or Muslim heritage. ICE arrests even legal immigrants if they are from Central America. M� Documents imagines America will always respond the same way–racial profiling and rounding up people we fear into camps or prisons.
In M� Documents, series of terrorist bombings perpetrated by people of Vietnamese heritage causes Congress to pass the American Advanced Protection Initiative, the AAPI. You know, the same initials as Asian American and Pacific Islander.
…”internment� was still a euphemism masking what it truly was: incarceration. from M� Documents by Kevin Nguyen
Vietnamese Americans are forced into makeshift, inadequate camps where suffering and violence and suicide abounds. One hundred thousand are in first generation VIetnamese American Jen’s camp. A black market rises disseminating computers and flash drives with entertainment and news. Jen writes for an underground camp newspaper and feeds stories to Ursula, her mixed race cousin who works for a newspaper, prompting a huge career boost.
Meantime, Jen’s brother Duncan finds fame on the camp football team. Ursula’s brother Alvin works for Google who protects him as essential–until he shares disturbing insider information with Ursula.
But Jen’s paper isn’t the only source of news in camp. Her competition sells disinformation, and resorts to violence when threatened.
Meanwhile, their father Dan, who was a child when his family fled after the Communists took over Saigon, is determined to escape the camps and disappears, living out of his truck. “To survive, you must be selfish,� his mother said as they fled Saigon. But Dan comes to understand that survival was not a selfish act–living was.
Truly disturbing, this dark humor novel about how one family experiences the worst racial policies America has ever enacted is an intense page-turner–and a warning.
Thanks to the publisher for a free book through NetGalley.
April 6, 2025
My Documents by Kevin Nguyen. Thanks to @oneworld for the gifted Arc ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
After several domestic attacks by Vietnamese individuals, America puts its Vietnamese citizens in internment camps. My Documents is one family’s story as we follow different members.
This was a terrifying book to read right now with American’s current immigration policy and lack of DEI and civil rights protections. This book felt like it took place in today’s times and felt so real. I could 100% see things going down exactly as they did in this story. I loved the different perspectives and how we get different looks at the situation. Anyone interested in journalistic perspective will definitely find this one interesting. There is a perspective from the outside reporting on the camps and one from inside printing underground materials. This is a great read, although there were some parts towards the end that dragged a bit but then it would pick up again.
My Documents comes out 4/8.
After several domestic attacks by Vietnamese individuals, America puts its Vietnamese citizens in internment camps. My Documents is one family’s story as we follow different members.
This was a terrifying book to read right now with American’s current immigration policy and lack of DEI and civil rights protections. This book felt like it took place in today’s times and felt so real. I could 100% see things going down exactly as they did in this story. I loved the different perspectives and how we get different looks at the situation. Anyone interested in journalistic perspective will definitely find this one interesting. There is a perspective from the outside reporting on the camps and one from inside printing underground materials. This is a great read, although there were some parts towards the end that dragged a bit but then it would pick up again.
My Documents comes out 4/8.
December 28, 2024
The events between family members, between situational peers, is complex and engrossing both in and outside of camp. The character development outpaces the events (it's good!), though the limited professional growth and choices of one character confound me.
November 17, 2024
This book starts with a great premise and executes it well. It's almost alternate history but set in the present, bringing the stain of racist internment camps into modern-day America.
Initially, I was hooked and thought it could be a five-star read. While others may love it, the author focused on aspects that didn’t resonate with me personally and glossed over areas I was eager to explore further. Ultimately, the story felt smaller in scope than I had anticipated. That’s perfectly fine—it just didn’t fully align with what I was looking for.
Thanks to NetGalley for the ARC opportunity.
Initially, I was hooked and thought it could be a five-star read. While others may love it, the author focused on aspects that didn’t resonate with me personally and glossed over areas I was eager to explore further. Ultimately, the story felt smaller in scope than I had anticipated. That’s perfectly fine—it just didn’t fully align with what I was looking for.
Thanks to NetGalley for the ARC opportunity.
April 10, 2025
[ 3.5/5 stars ]
After America being attacked by Vietnamese people, this book centers around the paths of four siblings in a context which the U.S. government begins sending Vietnamese Americans to internment camps.
The beginning provides an immersive reading experience as one follows the family's backstory, a tragic refugee tale. "You do what you have to do". I appreciate the focus on learning one's own history while the book questions 'what makes a good story?'
I think Nguyen lands the delivery by exposing racial identity, race, privilege and privacy through a dystopian story that might not feel so far-fetched - just as the narrative communicates with the incarceration of Japanese citizens during WWII, the history repeats itself. The author draws character portraits, amplifying the way people (imprisoned and outside of the camp) respond to this event. There are layers beneath the surface and many will question the morality.
Heavily character-driven, what keeps me from being fully committed to the story is that, while I commend the author for attempting to bring a bigger picture, the characters feel half-baked as I had expected more nuance and dimension. The plot often gives one permission to reflect on power and 'who gets to write what?'. With straight-forward writing, this book will work well for those who can overlook unresolved threads and the lack of narrative momentum.
"A more accurate saying would be that history is a reflection of who had power, and how they flattered themselves."
Despite the shortcomings, MY DOCUMENTS is a novel that delivers unique lens about Vietnamese internment camps, less focused on trauma.
[ I received an ARC from the publisher - One World books . All opinions are my own ]
After America being attacked by Vietnamese people, this book centers around the paths of four siblings in a context which the U.S. government begins sending Vietnamese Americans to internment camps.
The beginning provides an immersive reading experience as one follows the family's backstory, a tragic refugee tale. "You do what you have to do". I appreciate the focus on learning one's own history while the book questions 'what makes a good story?'
I think Nguyen lands the delivery by exposing racial identity, race, privilege and privacy through a dystopian story that might not feel so far-fetched - just as the narrative communicates with the incarceration of Japanese citizens during WWII, the history repeats itself. The author draws character portraits, amplifying the way people (imprisoned and outside of the camp) respond to this event. There are layers beneath the surface and many will question the morality.
Heavily character-driven, what keeps me from being fully committed to the story is that, while I commend the author for attempting to bring a bigger picture, the characters feel half-baked as I had expected more nuance and dimension. The plot often gives one permission to reflect on power and 'who gets to write what?'. With straight-forward writing, this book will work well for those who can overlook unresolved threads and the lack of narrative momentum.
"A more accurate saying would be that history is a reflection of who had power, and how they flattered themselves."
Despite the shortcomings, MY DOCUMENTS is a novel that delivers unique lens about Vietnamese internment camps, less focused on trauma.
[ I received an ARC from the publisher - One World books . All opinions are my own ]
March 13, 2025
I received this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
The setting: imagine Manzanar in the present-day US--substitute Vietnamese-Americans being interred. The camps are a result of terrorist attacks by Vietnamese in the US.
Family--and dysfunction, coming of age, assimilation, ambition, racism, rivalries--El Paquete, and that's just a start!
The diverse Nguyen family [focus on cousins]--some of whose members end up in Camp Tacoma -- and others--narrate the story.
I can't quite put my finger on why this book did not resonate for me. I found it both offputting and disconcerting--because--I looked up--the American Advanced Protections Initiative [the oft-referred to AAPI] does not exist--and because--especially in this current enviornment--it could! This derailed the narrative for me.
Though not named, a character who is definitely John McCain, is in the novel
Story lines I liked:
Descriptions of life in the camp. The tower. The underground communications systems.
Alvin--not in the camp as he got a job at Google--initially.
Duncan, in the camp, striving to be a football hero.
Ursula's and Jen's interactions. Jen, especially,
There is a lot packed into the book--maybe too much?
35, not rounding up. [in the distinct minority].
The setting: imagine Manzanar in the present-day US--substitute Vietnamese-Americans being interred. The camps are a result of terrorist attacks by Vietnamese in the US.
Family--and dysfunction, coming of age, assimilation, ambition, racism, rivalries--El Paquete, and that's just a start!
The diverse Nguyen family [focus on cousins]--some of whose members end up in Camp Tacoma -- and others--narrate the story.
I can't quite put my finger on why this book did not resonate for me. I found it both offputting and disconcerting--because--I looked up--the American Advanced Protections Initiative [the oft-referred to AAPI] does not exist--and because--especially in this current enviornment--it could! This derailed the narrative for me.
Though not named, a character who is definitely John McCain, is in the novel
Story lines I liked:
Descriptions of life in the camp. The tower. The underground communications systems.
Alvin--not in the camp as he got a job at Google--initially.
Duncan, in the camp, striving to be a football hero.
Ursula's and Jen's interactions. Jen, especially,
There is a lot packed into the book--maybe too much?
35, not rounding up. [in the distinct minority].
February 26, 2025
Some books don’t just tell a story—they hold up a mirror to the world around us. My Documents by Kevin Nguyen is one of those books.
In a dystopia that feels uncomfortably possible, the U.S. Government enacts a sweeping, brutal policy: in response to six violent attacks carried out by Vietnamese men, all Vietnamese Americans are forcibly relocated to internment camps. My Documents follows four "cousins"—half-siblings—navigating this horrifying new reality.
Ursula and Alvin, raised by their (white) mother, Pam, grew up mostly disconnected from their Vietnamese roots. Their father, Dan, disappeared early, leaving only sporadic visits to extended family on the West Coast as their tenuous cultural link. Ursula, a journalist, is desperate to prove herself and claw her way out of the fashion and beauty section of her publication. Alvin, a freshly minted Google employee, is still riding the privilege that shields him from consequences. Because of their status and connections, both avoid the camps.
Jen and Duncan aren’t so lucky. Raised by a devout Catholic mother in Indiana, they find themselves on the other side of this new America. Duncan, towering and aimless, drifts through life without a clear direction. Jen, a freshman at NYU, is still figuring out who she is—though one thing is clear: she idolizes Ursula, who keeps her at arm’s length. When the government comes knocking, their mother, Jen, and Duncan are shipped off to Camp Tacoma.
Reading this hit like a punch to the gut. The timing is almost ironic. Just days ago, I was reminded that it was the 33rd anniversary of my 13 Vietnamese relatives arriving in the U.S.—thirteen people I had never met, suddenly living under my roof. My childhood home filled overnight: cousins at my school, aunts, uncles, my bà nội in the living room, in the kitchen, in the backyard. It doesn’t take much to imagine how easily they could be rounded up, labeled as threats, and shipped off to a place like Camp Tacoma. And just as easily, how I wouldn’t be.
The idea of internment camps in America feels like a dystopian nightmare—except that nightmare has already happened. Executive Order 9066 ripped Japanese Americans from their homes, their lives, and their dignity under the pretense of "national security." The trauma endured in places like Manzanar and Tule Lake is well-documented—Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston’s Farewell to Manzanar and Mary Matsuda Gruenewald’s Looking Like the Enemy. And yet, America never really learned.
Because let’s be real—it could happen again. It is happening, in different forms. The government has always found ways to justify xenophobia and racism, draping oppression and rejection in the American flag and calling it patriotism. The Vietnam War, a conflict America had no business in, echoes through history. Look around now—Ukraine, Gaza. Different places, same playbook.
What My Documents does so masterfully is bring this cautionary reality into sharp focus. The narrative hurtles forward, switching between perspectives: Ursula’s ruthless ambition, Alvin’s willful ignorance, Duncan’s surprising success on the football field (sponsored, of course, by Nike�), and Jen’s desperate attempts to expose the truth, no matter the cost.
History doesn’t repeat itself. It just finds new ways to wear the same mask.
Vietnamese, Japanese, Mexican, Cuban—it doesn’t matter.
At the end of the day, all anyone wants is to be seen as human. As equal.
Thank you to NetGalley, the publishers, and Kevin Nguyen for the opportunity to read this terrifying tale.
In a dystopia that feels uncomfortably possible, the U.S. Government enacts a sweeping, brutal policy: in response to six violent attacks carried out by Vietnamese men, all Vietnamese Americans are forcibly relocated to internment camps. My Documents follows four "cousins"—half-siblings—navigating this horrifying new reality.
Ursula and Alvin, raised by their (white) mother, Pam, grew up mostly disconnected from their Vietnamese roots. Their father, Dan, disappeared early, leaving only sporadic visits to extended family on the West Coast as their tenuous cultural link. Ursula, a journalist, is desperate to prove herself and claw her way out of the fashion and beauty section of her publication. Alvin, a freshly minted Google employee, is still riding the privilege that shields him from consequences. Because of their status and connections, both avoid the camps.
Jen and Duncan aren’t so lucky. Raised by a devout Catholic mother in Indiana, they find themselves on the other side of this new America. Duncan, towering and aimless, drifts through life without a clear direction. Jen, a freshman at NYU, is still figuring out who she is—though one thing is clear: she idolizes Ursula, who keeps her at arm’s length. When the government comes knocking, their mother, Jen, and Duncan are shipped off to Camp Tacoma.
Reading this hit like a punch to the gut. The timing is almost ironic. Just days ago, I was reminded that it was the 33rd anniversary of my 13 Vietnamese relatives arriving in the U.S.—thirteen people I had never met, suddenly living under my roof. My childhood home filled overnight: cousins at my school, aunts, uncles, my bà nội in the living room, in the kitchen, in the backyard. It doesn’t take much to imagine how easily they could be rounded up, labeled as threats, and shipped off to a place like Camp Tacoma. And just as easily, how I wouldn’t be.
The idea of internment camps in America feels like a dystopian nightmare—except that nightmare has already happened. Executive Order 9066 ripped Japanese Americans from their homes, their lives, and their dignity under the pretense of "national security." The trauma endured in places like Manzanar and Tule Lake is well-documented—Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston’s Farewell to Manzanar and Mary Matsuda Gruenewald’s Looking Like the Enemy. And yet, America never really learned.
Because let’s be real—it could happen again. It is happening, in different forms. The government has always found ways to justify xenophobia and racism, draping oppression and rejection in the American flag and calling it patriotism. The Vietnam War, a conflict America had no business in, echoes through history. Look around now—Ukraine, Gaza. Different places, same playbook.
What My Documents does so masterfully is bring this cautionary reality into sharp focus. The narrative hurtles forward, switching between perspectives: Ursula’s ruthless ambition, Alvin’s willful ignorance, Duncan’s surprising success on the football field (sponsored, of course, by Nike�), and Jen’s desperate attempts to expose the truth, no matter the cost.
History doesn’t repeat itself. It just finds new ways to wear the same mask.
Vietnamese, Japanese, Mexican, Cuban—it doesn’t matter.
At the end of the day, all anyone wants is to be seen as human. As equal.
Thank you to NetGalley, the publishers, and Kevin Nguyen for the opportunity to read this terrifying tale.
November 24, 2024
Kevin Nguyen’s M� Documents is sharp, unsettling, and undeniably well-written. The premise—a government policy forces Vietnamese Americans into internment camps—hits close to home for me as someone of Japanese descent and the parallels to the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II. The story captures how fear, misinformation, and government overreach can lead to horrifying consequences. There are also themes of exploitation and appropriation of tragedy and the complications of family ties.
Unfortunately, while I don’t mind unlikable characters, I wish we’d seen more growth from them over the course of the story. Then again, maybe that’s the point: that bad things can happen and we don’t have to learn and grow from them—there does not need to be a silver lining.
I also found it jarring that there are moments where devastating things happen, but instead of sitting in the emotions, the narrative barrels ahead to the next event. It made it hard for me to feel fully connected to the story at times.
Still, the book is worth reading for its thought-provoking premise and its eerie relevance to today’s political climate. It’s one of those novels that’ll stick with you, even if it leaves you feeling more unsettled than satisfied. Solid four stars, and I could see myself pushing this up to five if I find myself thinking about it long after having finished it.
Thank you to NetGalley and One World!
Unfortunately, while I don’t mind unlikable characters, I wish we’d seen more growth from them over the course of the story. Then again, maybe that’s the point: that bad things can happen and we don’t have to learn and grow from them—there does not need to be a silver lining.
I also found it jarring that there are moments where devastating things happen, but instead of sitting in the emotions, the narrative barrels ahead to the next event. It made it hard for me to feel fully connected to the story at times.
Still, the book is worth reading for its thought-provoking premise and its eerie relevance to today’s political climate. It’s one of those novels that’ll stick with you, even if it leaves you feeling more unsettled than satisfied. Solid four stars, and I could see myself pushing this up to five if I find myself thinking about it long after having finished it.
Thank you to NetGalley and One World!
April 20, 2025
This originally appeared at .
---
WHAT'S MY DOCUMENTS ABOUT?
Soon after the fall of Saigon, but not soon enough, a woman named Bà Nội manages to escape Vietnam with her four-year-old son—she'd been able to send two of her children to the U.S. earlier. Sadly, her husband was unable to leave with them. As the novel opens in the mid-2010s, we meet four of this son's children—Ursula, Alvin, Jen, and Duncan.
These siblings and cousins are on the cusp of adulthood. Ursala is trying to make it as a journalist in NYC, Alvin is starting an internship (that will hopefully/likely turn into something more) at Google, Jen is enjoying the freedom that comes from being away from home at NYU, and Duncan's passion is playing on his high school football team—and he's pretty successful at it. All in all, this is a pretty good realization of Bà Nội's American Dream (even if most of the family had hoped for something more lucrative for Ursala than being a writer).
Then the U.S. is rocked by a series of coordinated terrorist attacks that result in the overwhelming majority of Vietnamese-Americans being placed in various internment camps. Jen, Duncan, and their mother are placed in Camp Tacoma, while Ursula and Alvin are able to get exemptions.
The novel traces the lives of these four (as well as some of their relatives) through this dark time—showing how technology, business, the media, the government, and prejudice collude to create and maintain this system, as well as the public reaction and eventual distraction (with sporadic moments of attention and protest). But beyond that, we see how those most impacted by these policies survive this—and how they try to adjust, cling to their humanity, and try to do more than survive.
THE COUSINS
First, I should note that we also get some time with their shared father (who was not really involved in their lives growing up), Dan. Without getting into it, Dan took a very different path than his children—or the majority of Vietnamese-Americans—during this time. His actions—which we check in on sporadically—serve to contrast what the rest go through.
But I want to focus on—as the book does—the cousins. These are fantastically drawn, deeply flawed, and relatable characters. They all react very differently to their circumstances, and grow (or at least develop) through them in ways that are completely believable. In much the same way that the fall of Saigon and escape to the U.S. shaped the lives and psyches of their grandmother and father, this period does that to them.
MORE THAN SURVIVAL
In the beginning—even for those outside the camps—it's just about survival. You do what you're told, you make sure to obey the men with guns, you keep your head down and just hold on to whatever you can. But in time, you find ways to breathe, to relax, to find community and support, you even find ways to help others.
The guards organize football games for the detainees, which are attended by most of those in the camp. It allows Duncan to thrive. Jen gets work on the camp's official newspaper—which, yes, is basically a propaganda machine (everyone knows this), but it helps her hone her writing and gets her exposure to most of the camp, as well as access. Because of her access, she's brought into the circle of a smuggling operation that brings in some forms of food, life-saving medicine that the camp won't bring in, and even digital copies of TV, movies, and music.
It's through these temporary escapes from their daily circumstances—authorized or not—that the detainees are able to remember that there's more to living than existing. There are flashes of joy and relief in the midst of their tense, precarious, and tragic circumstances.
It's in this part of the novel that the reader is able to find more than just a frighteningly possible dystopia; it's what elevates this.
SO, WHAT DID I THINK ABOUT MY DOCUMENTS?
One of the more chilling aspects of this book is how most Americans move on from the internment. It makes headlines and creates some scandal for a bit, and then the attention of the public shifts to something else. Every now and then, something will come up that gets people riled up a little bit, but nothing sticks for most of the public. This is a dystopia—but not for everyone. Not that many people suffer. And while things could be better for people like Ursula and Alvin, outside of their own missteps and failings, their lives are pretty good.
The more I think about that, the more terrifying it is. The more realistic and possible it seems, too.
There's a moment toward the beginning of the book where Ursula is attending a lecture from a working journalist, who says that a good story tells us something about people—how they live and how they are self-deluded. It seemed like a pretty obvious spotlight on one of Nguyen's themes. And it happens so early, I don't feel bad getting that specific. Not only is that a good way to think about stories (true and fictional) in general—it's a key to this work.
Every person we spend extended time with—and several that we don't—are under one or more forms of delusion—some external, but many come from within. This, too, is Nguyen's realism shining forth. The way these four fool themselves is so relatable and so pitiable. It may sound like I'm criticizing the characters (and maybe I am a little), but this is a testimony to the way Nguyen depicts them, they come alive in their failings more than in their strengths.
I would've liked to see a little more of the relationship between Duncan and Alvin. But the way we—and they—were denied that is one of the stronger elements, the more I think about it. Once they're unable to communicate after the internment (which, naturally, comes with a total lack of mobile phone/internet access), they themselves think about the ways they missed out.
I do think some readers will be put off by how fun this book sometimes is. Jen has a similar thought when the underground starts distributing TV shows and people get so into them—but her smuggler acquaintance assures her that this is good. There's a little bit of enjoyment in these people's lives now—they're doing more than just existing.
Also, the moments of lightness do a great job of setting you up for the next gut-punch of a development. Nguyen's is good at lulling his readers into that.
This is a gripping, well-plotted read that keeps moving along, too. There's a momentum that slowly builds, almost like a thriller, until you're barreling toward the conclusion.
This is a powerful, haunting, uncomfortable (purposefully) read that will also charm you. I've been having a hard time moving on from this book in the days since I read it. I keep finding ways to talk about it or think about it—and the more I do either, the more I appreciate this work. This is definitely one of the best—both affective and effective—books I've read in some time.
---
WHAT'S MY DOCUMENTS ABOUT?
Soon after the fall of Saigon, but not soon enough, a woman named Bà Nội manages to escape Vietnam with her four-year-old son—she'd been able to send two of her children to the U.S. earlier. Sadly, her husband was unable to leave with them. As the novel opens in the mid-2010s, we meet four of this son's children—Ursula, Alvin, Jen, and Duncan.
These siblings and cousins are on the cusp of adulthood. Ursala is trying to make it as a journalist in NYC, Alvin is starting an internship (that will hopefully/likely turn into something more) at Google, Jen is enjoying the freedom that comes from being away from home at NYU, and Duncan's passion is playing on his high school football team—and he's pretty successful at it. All in all, this is a pretty good realization of Bà Nội's American Dream (even if most of the family had hoped for something more lucrative for Ursala than being a writer).
Then the U.S. is rocked by a series of coordinated terrorist attacks that result in the overwhelming majority of Vietnamese-Americans being placed in various internment camps. Jen, Duncan, and their mother are placed in Camp Tacoma, while Ursula and Alvin are able to get exemptions.
The novel traces the lives of these four (as well as some of their relatives) through this dark time—showing how technology, business, the media, the government, and prejudice collude to create and maintain this system, as well as the public reaction and eventual distraction (with sporadic moments of attention and protest). But beyond that, we see how those most impacted by these policies survive this—and how they try to adjust, cling to their humanity, and try to do more than survive.
THE COUSINS
First, I should note that we also get some time with their shared father (who was not really involved in their lives growing up), Dan. Without getting into it, Dan took a very different path than his children—or the majority of Vietnamese-Americans—during this time. His actions—which we check in on sporadically—serve to contrast what the rest go through.
But I want to focus on—as the book does—the cousins. These are fantastically drawn, deeply flawed, and relatable characters. They all react very differently to their circumstances, and grow (or at least develop) through them in ways that are completely believable. In much the same way that the fall of Saigon and escape to the U.S. shaped the lives and psyches of their grandmother and father, this period does that to them.
MORE THAN SURVIVAL
In the beginning—even for those outside the camps—it's just about survival. You do what you're told, you make sure to obey the men with guns, you keep your head down and just hold on to whatever you can. But in time, you find ways to breathe, to relax, to find community and support, you even find ways to help others.
The guards organize football games for the detainees, which are attended by most of those in the camp. It allows Duncan to thrive. Jen gets work on the camp's official newspaper—which, yes, is basically a propaganda machine (everyone knows this), but it helps her hone her writing and gets her exposure to most of the camp, as well as access. Because of her access, she's brought into the circle of a smuggling operation that brings in some forms of food, life-saving medicine that the camp won't bring in, and even digital copies of TV, movies, and music.
It's through these temporary escapes from their daily circumstances—authorized or not—that the detainees are able to remember that there's more to living than existing. There are flashes of joy and relief in the midst of their tense, precarious, and tragic circumstances.
It's in this part of the novel that the reader is able to find more than just a frighteningly possible dystopia; it's what elevates this.
SO, WHAT DID I THINK ABOUT MY DOCUMENTS?
One of the more chilling aspects of this book is how most Americans move on from the internment. It makes headlines and creates some scandal for a bit, and then the attention of the public shifts to something else. Every now and then, something will come up that gets people riled up a little bit, but nothing sticks for most of the public. This is a dystopia—but not for everyone. Not that many people suffer. And while things could be better for people like Ursula and Alvin, outside of their own missteps and failings, their lives are pretty good.
The more I think about that, the more terrifying it is. The more realistic and possible it seems, too.
There's a moment toward the beginning of the book where Ursula is attending a lecture from a working journalist, who says that a good story tells us something about people—how they live and how they are self-deluded. It seemed like a pretty obvious spotlight on one of Nguyen's themes. And it happens so early, I don't feel bad getting that specific. Not only is that a good way to think about stories (true and fictional) in general—it's a key to this work.
Every person we spend extended time with—and several that we don't—are under one or more forms of delusion—some external, but many come from within. This, too, is Nguyen's realism shining forth. The way these four fool themselves is so relatable and so pitiable. It may sound like I'm criticizing the characters (and maybe I am a little), but this is a testimony to the way Nguyen depicts them, they come alive in their failings more than in their strengths.
I would've liked to see a little more of the relationship between Duncan and Alvin. But the way we—and they—were denied that is one of the stronger elements, the more I think about it. Once they're unable to communicate after the internment (which, naturally, comes with a total lack of mobile phone/internet access), they themselves think about the ways they missed out.
I do think some readers will be put off by how fun this book sometimes is. Jen has a similar thought when the underground starts distributing TV shows and people get so into them—but her smuggler acquaintance assures her that this is good. There's a little bit of enjoyment in these people's lives now—they're doing more than just existing.
Also, the moments of lightness do a great job of setting you up for the next gut-punch of a development. Nguyen's is good at lulling his readers into that.
This is a gripping, well-plotted read that keeps moving along, too. There's a momentum that slowly builds, almost like a thriller, until you're barreling toward the conclusion.
This is a powerful, haunting, uncomfortable (purposefully) read that will also charm you. I've been having a hard time moving on from this book in the days since I read it. I keep finding ways to talk about it or think about it—and the more I do either, the more I appreciate this work. This is definitely one of the best—both affective and effective—books I've read in some time.
April 8, 2025
Nguyen presents an unsettling scenario that does not seem too removed from reality under the current administration. The novel opens with the strong matriarch who sacrificed everything, including leaving her behind husband, a university teacher, t get her family out of Viet Nam when Saigon fell. The novel then focuses on her four grandchildren: Ursula, a writer, who blogs about beauty products for a website when she wished to be a serious journalist; Alvin, an intern at Google; Jen, a needy and unassertive student at NYU who is six years younger than Ursula, but saw her as a role model; and Duncan, a highschool student who is shy and sweet. Although Ursula and Alvin were raised in Boston by a single white mother, Jen and Duncan were reared in the Midwest by a Vietnamese mother who was a devout Catholic. Each of these children, who refer to each other as “cousin� as a sign of respect, were united by being abandoned by their father, Dan, who had a tendency to start families and to leave them.
After presenting the principal characters, Nguyen reveals how they get caught up in a federal crackdown after a series of coordinated attacks on the busiest airports in America on one of the busiest travel days of the year � December 22 � after the perpetrators were identified as Vietnamese men. Legislation was forwarded, the American Advanced Protections Initiative, that suspended the rights of the Vietnamese Americans� rights while the attacks were being investigated. The Vietnamese were incarcerated which was both similar in practice and policy to what was done to Japanese citizens during WWII (although Alvin surprisingly had been unaware of the mass evacuations of Japanese Americans during WWII).
Ursula, a journalist, and Alvin, a Google employee, are exempt from reporting to an assembly center, possibly because their mother is white and because of the machinations of Google to retain its workforce. Dan abandoned his wife, Celeste (who had no idea of Dan’s previous lives) and their two kids and takes off to elude the authorities. Jen and Duncan and their mother dutifully report to Camp Tacoma. Detention was boring, particularly because the detainees were deprived of access to information and the ability to communicate. Everyone at Camp Tacoma was forced to do manual labor. Jen wrote “morale booster� copy for the camp newspaper and Duncan worked in the kitchen and played on the football team. Because of her job, Jen could readily move about the camp, largely undetected. She is recruited by El Paquete, an underground organization, and hopes to reveal to Ursula the horrors of the camp � the suicides, the brutality, the lack of medical care.
Nguyen explores the realities of racism, but he throws in enough humor to leaven the weighty subject matter. He explains that detention was lucrative for corporations, writing that the Vietnamese flooded Amazon with orders before they were required to report for their incarceration assignments, but because of the unexpected volumes of sales, deliveries were delayed and the items were often left moldering on the porch as the buyers were already gone. He also throws jabs at the racists who run the government, quipping that some “Republican leaders had tried to sell [detainment] like it was a vacation � free room and board while matters of national security were sorted out.� Nguyen has crafted a rich and engrossing novel that seems prescient when just this week the Vice President used racist and derogatory language when discussing China. Thank you One World and Net Galley for an advanced copy of this compelling novel.
After presenting the principal characters, Nguyen reveals how they get caught up in a federal crackdown after a series of coordinated attacks on the busiest airports in America on one of the busiest travel days of the year � December 22 � after the perpetrators were identified as Vietnamese men. Legislation was forwarded, the American Advanced Protections Initiative, that suspended the rights of the Vietnamese Americans� rights while the attacks were being investigated. The Vietnamese were incarcerated which was both similar in practice and policy to what was done to Japanese citizens during WWII (although Alvin surprisingly had been unaware of the mass evacuations of Japanese Americans during WWII).
Ursula, a journalist, and Alvin, a Google employee, are exempt from reporting to an assembly center, possibly because their mother is white and because of the machinations of Google to retain its workforce. Dan abandoned his wife, Celeste (who had no idea of Dan’s previous lives) and their two kids and takes off to elude the authorities. Jen and Duncan and their mother dutifully report to Camp Tacoma. Detention was boring, particularly because the detainees were deprived of access to information and the ability to communicate. Everyone at Camp Tacoma was forced to do manual labor. Jen wrote “morale booster� copy for the camp newspaper and Duncan worked in the kitchen and played on the football team. Because of her job, Jen could readily move about the camp, largely undetected. She is recruited by El Paquete, an underground organization, and hopes to reveal to Ursula the horrors of the camp � the suicides, the brutality, the lack of medical care.
Nguyen explores the realities of racism, but he throws in enough humor to leaven the weighty subject matter. He explains that detention was lucrative for corporations, writing that the Vietnamese flooded Amazon with orders before they were required to report for their incarceration assignments, but because of the unexpected volumes of sales, deliveries were delayed and the items were often left moldering on the porch as the buyers were already gone. He also throws jabs at the racists who run the government, quipping that some “Republican leaders had tried to sell [detainment] like it was a vacation � free room and board while matters of national security were sorted out.� Nguyen has crafted a rich and engrossing novel that seems prescient when just this week the Vice President used racist and derogatory language when discussing China. Thank you One World and Net Galley for an advanced copy of this compelling novel.
March 31, 2025
A dystopian novel that is hitting a little too close to the current political climate. It's the story of the round up and the detention of an entire culture and race, reflected by family members both inside and outside the camp. Reminiscent of the WWII Internment of the Japanese people. This book grabbed me from the beginning, but unfortunately went downhill from there.
First- the good/scary. This phrase hit me right off "A more accurate saying is history is a reflection of who had power, and how they flattered themselves."
The book begins with the framework of a dysfunctional, multigenerational family. It tells where they are in their life, life stages, careers, sacrifices made, how they've all become "Americans"- whether through immigration, or hard work and dream. Then the fear and confusion of a round up because of 6 simultaneous terrorist attacks. (I thought this was a little "light" for it to have instilled so much fear in the public). This part of the book is what grabbed me and kept me interested.
The next part of the book bops between those in the camp (a mother and 2 high school and early college age children) and those on the outside (2 half siblings and a father on the run both from the law and his families). Some of this got long and drawn out and seemed trite. Other parts of this, like the intricate underground network for medicines and digital entertainment, where interesting and entertaining. I enjoyed watching the sense of community grow with those interred. I was extremely bothered by how society as a whole moved on with their lives and basically ignored/forgot about those still living in the camps. None of the citizens left argued or fought for the unjust imprisonment of many people, especially after enough time went by- life returned to normal.
The last part of the book was after the "prisoners" were released back into normal life. This part seemed fluffy and rushed to me- a sub character (VERY sub) suddenly became a main part of the story, unnecessarily. The self discovery of people both and and out of the camp seemed superficial to how I feel like families, young adults, and ambitious citizens would have felt. The book just seemed to unravel the longer it went on.
I am both horrified and intrigued by the timing of this novel- did the author know what he was doing when he began researching and writing this book, or is it coincidence? It's extremely timely and should make people think. I wish the book was a little tighter and deeper. Seemed fluffy for the seriousness of the topic. Drew me in, but by the end I didn't really care for any of the characters and they still came off as superficial.
Thanks to NetGalley for the digital copy of this book and the opportunity to review it before publication.
First- the good/scary. This phrase hit me right off "A more accurate saying is history is a reflection of who had power, and how they flattered themselves."
The book begins with the framework of a dysfunctional, multigenerational family. It tells where they are in their life, life stages, careers, sacrifices made, how they've all become "Americans"- whether through immigration, or hard work and dream. Then the fear and confusion of a round up because of 6 simultaneous terrorist attacks. (I thought this was a little "light" for it to have instilled so much fear in the public). This part of the book is what grabbed me and kept me interested.
The next part of the book bops between those in the camp (a mother and 2 high school and early college age children) and those on the outside (2 half siblings and a father on the run both from the law and his families). Some of this got long and drawn out and seemed trite. Other parts of this, like the intricate underground network for medicines and digital entertainment, where interesting and entertaining. I enjoyed watching the sense of community grow with those interred. I was extremely bothered by how society as a whole moved on with their lives and basically ignored/forgot about those still living in the camps. None of the citizens left argued or fought for the unjust imprisonment of many people, especially after enough time went by- life returned to normal.
The last part of the book was after the "prisoners" were released back into normal life. This part seemed fluffy and rushed to me- a sub character (VERY sub) suddenly became a main part of the story, unnecessarily. The self discovery of people both and and out of the camp seemed superficial to how I feel like families, young adults, and ambitious citizens would have felt. The book just seemed to unravel the longer it went on.
I am both horrified and intrigued by the timing of this novel- did the author know what he was doing when he began researching and writing this book, or is it coincidence? It's extremely timely and should make people think. I wish the book was a little tighter and deeper. Seemed fluffy for the seriousness of the topic. Drew me in, but by the end I didn't really care for any of the characters and they still came off as superficial.
Thanks to NetGalley for the digital copy of this book and the opportunity to review it before publication.
April 25, 2025
Ursula, Alvin, Jen, and Duncan are cousins with bright futures. Ursula is a budding journalist, Alvin is an engineering intern for Google, Jen is a NYU freshman, and Duncan is on his high school football team. A series of violent attacks across America create a national panic, prompting a government policy that pushes Vietnamese Americans into internment camps. Jen and Duncan are sent with their mother to Camp Tacoma while Ursula and Alvin receive exemptions. Those in the camp are isolated from the world outside of it, and are forced to work jobs they hate. When Jen discovers a way to get messages to the outside, she contacts Ursula. This is her opportunity to tell the world about the camp, as well as bolster her own career.
Based on the Japanese American internment during World War II, this book still deals with modern-day racism and immigration policy in America. It's easy to think what happened in the 40s doesn't affect today, but people are only too willing to ignore the atrocities done in that time period and recreate the circumstances that led to it happening in the first place. M� is the Vietnamese word for American, but when it's not capitalized also means beautiful. Context is key in a monosyllabic and tonal language like Vietnamese.
In this story, the "cousins" are half-siblings scattered around the country by a Vietnamese father who essentially abandoned them all. We are introduced slowly to the four main characters, seeing the ties between them and family members, and seeing the family lore in the form of their paternal grandmother's stories. As half Vietnamese, Ursula is white passing and uses her mother's maiden name. Her brother Alvin isn't quite as white passing, but strings were pulled at Google so he avoided detention. Jen and Duncan weren't as lucky, with a Vietnamese American mother and no one bending rules for them. This tension and quiet horror of the situation is brought home by getting to know these four people directly affected. Interspersed are dry and impersonal sections, outlining the internment order, the capitalist drive to take advantage of the situation, and politicians downplaying the severity to control the narrative.
Throughout the internment, we see those who collaborate, those who fight in obvious ways, those who fight back in subtle ways. Some accepted the reality of the internment, merely surviving, and others eked out joy where they could. Yet others did suicide by cop. We're told that Camp Tacoma is the fancier and nicest of the camps, yet this still happens. It's a chilling look at the circumstances inside the camp, and the mental gymnastics of the everyday people who justify it. There's no right way to deal with trauma and how to deal with a situation like this. I hope that this book inspires conversations about people of different cultures, ethics, and how best to cross the divides between us.
Based on the Japanese American internment during World War II, this book still deals with modern-day racism and immigration policy in America. It's easy to think what happened in the 40s doesn't affect today, but people are only too willing to ignore the atrocities done in that time period and recreate the circumstances that led to it happening in the first place. M� is the Vietnamese word for American, but when it's not capitalized also means beautiful. Context is key in a monosyllabic and tonal language like Vietnamese.
In this story, the "cousins" are half-siblings scattered around the country by a Vietnamese father who essentially abandoned them all. We are introduced slowly to the four main characters, seeing the ties between them and family members, and seeing the family lore in the form of their paternal grandmother's stories. As half Vietnamese, Ursula is white passing and uses her mother's maiden name. Her brother Alvin isn't quite as white passing, but strings were pulled at Google so he avoided detention. Jen and Duncan weren't as lucky, with a Vietnamese American mother and no one bending rules for them. This tension and quiet horror of the situation is brought home by getting to know these four people directly affected. Interspersed are dry and impersonal sections, outlining the internment order, the capitalist drive to take advantage of the situation, and politicians downplaying the severity to control the narrative.
Throughout the internment, we see those who collaborate, those who fight in obvious ways, those who fight back in subtle ways. Some accepted the reality of the internment, merely surviving, and others eked out joy where they could. Yet others did suicide by cop. We're told that Camp Tacoma is the fancier and nicest of the camps, yet this still happens. It's a chilling look at the circumstances inside the camp, and the mental gymnastics of the everyday people who justify it. There's no right way to deal with trauma and how to deal with a situation like this. I hope that this book inspires conversations about people of different cultures, ethics, and how best to cross the divides between us.
April 21, 2025
Every protest movement is powered by momentum, and eventually, even the most spirited showing from these groups dissipated. AAPI (Asian American Protection Initiative) passed easily. As the rallies fizzled, so did the words "imprisonment", "incarceration", and "internment". What was left was the language of the government, and the language of the media. Both said "detention". There's the saying that history is always written by the victors, but that assumes a winner and a loser. A more accurate saying would be that history is a reflection of who had power, and how they flattered themselves.
incredibly of the times. hauntingly so! if this doesn't catch on in the zeitgeist i'll eat my hat; it deserves to be talked about at large. well-written mostly, interesting, with good work in the little details like I like. pulls a great punch at the end which redeemed what felt like bad storytelling -- the commentary on culture's love of consuming portrayal's of people's suffering instead of their small joys in survival. It's a paradox we can't quite solve as humans.
there's a lot of interesting ideas sort of floated here, some of them to great effect and others very loosely drawn, to my disappointment. sometimes gives a feeling like... some of the story is undernourished. as a whole, it has a fundamental lack in the core. for one thing, there's not enough attention given to each element presented so it sometimes feels scattershot and underbaked in certain parts. the storytelling does clip along really well though, the pacing is brisk.
loved Ursula especially, the bumbling half-sibling journalist who slurps up the story that defines her career as it's relayed to her by a neglected younger sister trapped in an internment camp for vietnamese americans. loved how the book meditates on questions like who gets to tell the story of a people's tragedy, on race in america, the police state, the importance and the hypocrisy and the emergency of mass media.... the power of stories! of small joys. of suffering. of being a bad daughter and a bad friend and a growing young woman and an errant father. on being first gen american and feeling weird about it. about feeling complicated feelings toward your immigrant mother. on the everyday mundanity of atrocity.
most of the story felt harrowingly possible. it was so so good at predicting how easily people will just kind of accept something horrible that's happening because what can we do except get pepper sprayed at protests about it? some of it did feel purposefully softened, but with the aim of not over-glorifying portrayals of suffering as we discuss in the second half, I can see the reasoning.
excited to read nguyen's future works.
incredibly of the times. hauntingly so! if this doesn't catch on in the zeitgeist i'll eat my hat; it deserves to be talked about at large. well-written mostly, interesting, with good work in the little details like I like. pulls a great punch at the end which redeemed what felt like bad storytelling -- the commentary on culture's love of consuming portrayal's of people's suffering instead of their small joys in survival. It's a paradox we can't quite solve as humans.
there's a lot of interesting ideas sort of floated here, some of them to great effect and others very loosely drawn, to my disappointment. sometimes gives a feeling like... some of the story is undernourished. as a whole, it has a fundamental lack in the core. for one thing, there's not enough attention given to each element presented so it sometimes feels scattershot and underbaked in certain parts. the storytelling does clip along really well though, the pacing is brisk.
loved Ursula especially, the bumbling half-sibling journalist who slurps up the story that defines her career as it's relayed to her by a neglected younger sister trapped in an internment camp for vietnamese americans. loved how the book meditates on questions like who gets to tell the story of a people's tragedy, on race in america, the police state, the importance and the hypocrisy and the emergency of mass media.... the power of stories! of small joys. of suffering. of being a bad daughter and a bad friend and a growing young woman and an errant father. on being first gen american and feeling weird about it. about feeling complicated feelings toward your immigrant mother. on the everyday mundanity of atrocity.
most of the story felt harrowingly possible. it was so so good at predicting how easily people will just kind of accept something horrible that's happening because what can we do except get pepper sprayed at protests about it? some of it did feel purposefully softened, but with the aim of not over-glorifying portrayals of suffering as we discuss in the second half, I can see the reasoning.
excited to read nguyen's future works.
April 22, 2025
With Japanese internment during WWII and detention camps on the Texas-Mexico border, Kevin Nguyen had history to draw on as he decided to write a novel in which Homeland Security detains thousands of Vietnamese Americans following several bombings that might have been conducted by Vietnamese Americans despite definitive proof.
The story centers around several individuals. Readers first meet the characters before their internment with the main early focus on two “cousins� (in reality, half-sisters), Jen Nguyen and Ursula Carrington in New York City. it isn’t long before Jen, her brother Duncan, and their mother land in a detention center in an undisclosed desert location. Although Jen and Duncan, Ursula and Ursula’s brother Alvin share a Vietnamese American father, who is part of none of their lives, Ursula and Alvin have a white American mother, whose last name Ursula has adopted for her new journalism job with an online news site, enabling her to pass for white. Allvin, who looks more Vietnamese than his sister, escapes detention only through the intervention of Google, for whom he has just begun an engineering internship. A husband and a father of two small children, Dan drives away from home and family unannounced, going off the grid to escape incarceration but carrying documents long concealed in the trunk.
Author Kevin Nguyen alternates between these characters, portraying life in the detention camp, life working for Google and in the fashion section of the online news platform, and life on the run. As clandestine smuggling and publications arise in the internment camp and Jen becomes increasingly involved, she connects with Ursula, who is struggling to build her career, determined to move up from fashion to news. At Google, Alvin inadvertently stumbles across secret information during his internship, and character after character must make decisions that could improve or jeopardize their well-being, whether career or life itself.
Looming over the desert detention camp is an ominous tower, the purpose of which no one knows despite much speculation.
One brief chapter at a time, author Kevin Nguyen lets readers get to know his characters and builds suspense as characters adjust to and rebel against camp life or focus on building their outside careers and perhaps achieving fame. Throughout the novel, the title gradually assumes different meanings.
Thanks to NetGalley and Random House for an advance reader egalley of this highly recommended and socio-politically relevant new novel from Kevin Nguyen.
The story centers around several individuals. Readers first meet the characters before their internment with the main early focus on two “cousins� (in reality, half-sisters), Jen Nguyen and Ursula Carrington in New York City. it isn’t long before Jen, her brother Duncan, and their mother land in a detention center in an undisclosed desert location. Although Jen and Duncan, Ursula and Ursula’s brother Alvin share a Vietnamese American father, who is part of none of their lives, Ursula and Alvin have a white American mother, whose last name Ursula has adopted for her new journalism job with an online news site, enabling her to pass for white. Allvin, who looks more Vietnamese than his sister, escapes detention only through the intervention of Google, for whom he has just begun an engineering internship. A husband and a father of two small children, Dan drives away from home and family unannounced, going off the grid to escape incarceration but carrying documents long concealed in the trunk.
Author Kevin Nguyen alternates between these characters, portraying life in the detention camp, life working for Google and in the fashion section of the online news platform, and life on the run. As clandestine smuggling and publications arise in the internment camp and Jen becomes increasingly involved, she connects with Ursula, who is struggling to build her career, determined to move up from fashion to news. At Google, Alvin inadvertently stumbles across secret information during his internship, and character after character must make decisions that could improve or jeopardize their well-being, whether career or life itself.
Looming over the desert detention camp is an ominous tower, the purpose of which no one knows despite much speculation.
One brief chapter at a time, author Kevin Nguyen lets readers get to know his characters and builds suspense as characters adjust to and rebel against camp life or focus on building their outside careers and perhaps achieving fame. Throughout the novel, the title gradually assumes different meanings.
Thanks to NetGalley and Random House for an advance reader egalley of this highly recommended and socio-politically relevant new novel from Kevin Nguyen.
March 18, 2025
In "My Documents", author Kevin Nguyen paints a present-day United States that becomes subject to a series of 7 bombings across key airports - and what follows when the culprits of these attacks are revealed to be of Vietnamese descent. The government immediate sets into motion a nation-wide corralling of Vietnamese Americans into internment camps, including the members of the Nguyen family whose lives are all upended.
Siblings Jen and Duncan Nguyen are assigned to Camp Tacoma with their mother; their home is seized by the government and they're introduced to the disorganized and at times inhumane treatment of individuals. From cramped bunks, little to no privacy, banned Internet or external communication, and correction officers given far too much unchecked power, the family struggles to adapt to their new living situation. In spite of the dismal living conditions, both Jen and Duncan attempt to find their footing and a new community at Camp Tacoma; Jen gets involved with an underground newsletter secretly distributed to other prisoners and Duncan finds his physical stature to be a benefit in athletics. Jen and Duncan's half-siblings, Alvin and Ursula, avoid the summons; as a new intern at Google, Alvin receives an exemption while Ursula's mixed ethnicity means she gets to scrape by. She's able to start a career in journalism and when a secret communication network builds within Camp Tacoma, the four siblings must come together.
The entire dystopian premise of this novel was intriguing from the first page, sending clear allusions to the Japanese internment camps that evolved in the wake of WWII - and hinting just how close to reality this may be, especially given the current political climate. I appreciated as well the details in which the internment camps were thought out, from the individual assignments, the distribution of information, and the secret networks that evolved as a result. I did struggle, however, with the volume of characters featured, especially as all four siblings all had their own backstories and paths during the internment; I wish we had more time and development dedicated to them as it didn't feel complete. The side storyline about Dan also didn't have much focus and also felt incomplete, especially given his relationship to the protagonists.
Overall an intriguing and thought-provoking read that, while I felt had some gaps in the writing, I'd recommend to readers when "My Documents" is published in April 2025!
Siblings Jen and Duncan Nguyen are assigned to Camp Tacoma with their mother; their home is seized by the government and they're introduced to the disorganized and at times inhumane treatment of individuals. From cramped bunks, little to no privacy, banned Internet or external communication, and correction officers given far too much unchecked power, the family struggles to adapt to their new living situation. In spite of the dismal living conditions, both Jen and Duncan attempt to find their footing and a new community at Camp Tacoma; Jen gets involved with an underground newsletter secretly distributed to other prisoners and Duncan finds his physical stature to be a benefit in athletics. Jen and Duncan's half-siblings, Alvin and Ursula, avoid the summons; as a new intern at Google, Alvin receives an exemption while Ursula's mixed ethnicity means she gets to scrape by. She's able to start a career in journalism and when a secret communication network builds within Camp Tacoma, the four siblings must come together.
The entire dystopian premise of this novel was intriguing from the first page, sending clear allusions to the Japanese internment camps that evolved in the wake of WWII - and hinting just how close to reality this may be, especially given the current political climate. I appreciated as well the details in which the internment camps were thought out, from the individual assignments, the distribution of information, and the secret networks that evolved as a result. I did struggle, however, with the volume of characters featured, especially as all four siblings all had their own backstories and paths during the internment; I wish we had more time and development dedicated to them as it didn't feel complete. The side storyline about Dan also didn't have much focus and also felt incomplete, especially given his relationship to the protagonists.
Overall an intriguing and thought-provoking read that, while I felt had some gaps in the writing, I'd recommend to readers when "My Documents" is published in April 2025!
April 4, 2025
***I received an ARC from Net Galley in exchange for my honest review
This novel follows 4 cousins in the Nguyen family - Ursula, Alvin, Jen, and Duncan - after a series of violent, senseless attacks across America creates a national panic, prompting a government policy that pushes Vietnamese Americans into internment camps. Jen, a college student, and Duncan, a high school football star, get sent to one of the camps, while Ursula, who is a journalist and Alvin who works for Google are spared. Cut off entirely from the outside world, forced to work jobs they hate, Jen and Duncan try to withstand long, dusty days in camp and acclimate to life without the internet. That is, until Jen discovers a way to get messages to the outside. Her first instinct is to reach out to Ursula, who sees this connection as a chance to tell the world about the horrors of camp—and as an opportunity to bolster her own reporting career in the process.
This book was inspired by real-life events, from Japanese incarceration to the Vietnam War and modern-day immigrant detention. It started out as a bit of a slow burn, and I will admit, I had to keep putting it aside and giving myself a break from it because it was too much like reading the news. There was one part that really stuck with me, where two of the cousins were texting :
actually Cau Minh is being weird about one thing though
what:
apparently homeland security told him to make sure he had identification on him at all times
so now he sleeps with his documentation under his pillow
A few days later, DHS came for Uncle Minh again. This time, he didn't return.
This just really hit home, because of all of the immigrants out there today who are forced to carry their documents wherever they go, and the uncertantity every time they leave the house if it is the last time they will see their family. This is a very timely book, and it is hard to read, but I did thoroughly enjoy it,.
This novel follows 4 cousins in the Nguyen family - Ursula, Alvin, Jen, and Duncan - after a series of violent, senseless attacks across America creates a national panic, prompting a government policy that pushes Vietnamese Americans into internment camps. Jen, a college student, and Duncan, a high school football star, get sent to one of the camps, while Ursula, who is a journalist and Alvin who works for Google are spared. Cut off entirely from the outside world, forced to work jobs they hate, Jen and Duncan try to withstand long, dusty days in camp and acclimate to life without the internet. That is, until Jen discovers a way to get messages to the outside. Her first instinct is to reach out to Ursula, who sees this connection as a chance to tell the world about the horrors of camp—and as an opportunity to bolster her own reporting career in the process.
This book was inspired by real-life events, from Japanese incarceration to the Vietnam War and modern-day immigrant detention. It started out as a bit of a slow burn, and I will admit, I had to keep putting it aside and giving myself a break from it because it was too much like reading the news. There was one part that really stuck with me, where two of the cousins were texting :
actually Cau Minh is being weird about one thing though
what:
apparently homeland security told him to make sure he had identification on him at all times
so now he sleeps with his documentation under his pillow
A few days later, DHS came for Uncle Minh again. This time, he didn't return.
This just really hit home, because of all of the immigrants out there today who are forced to carry their documents wherever they go, and the uncertantity every time they leave the house if it is the last time they will see their family. This is a very timely book, and it is hard to read, but I did thoroughly enjoy it,.
March 30, 2025
4 stars
The best time to read a dystopian novel is when we're in a state of relative freedom and relative harmony. There are also times like this - which feel like the exact opposite of that aforementioned state - and those moments can make a book like this feel like these events could happen by the end of the week. The most terrifying part for many readers will be the relatability of a culture in which freedoms are held and then suddenly lost. This book made me think...and worry.
There are four central characters who are raised as cousins, but that isn't a fully transparent view of who they are to each other biologically or emotionally. During the span of the novel, in American society, Vietamese citizens are sent to internment camps. It's horrifying to watch the ways in which each of these four characters is impacted by going or not going (there are some exemptions), and it is a brutal choice to have all of them be at the start of their lives: new professionals, new college students, even high school students. What will come of them? Their relationships? Their expected outcomes? And if there is a life after this experience, what will there be to come back TO?
I really enjoyed how this was written, the ways in which this concept came together, and the knowledge that I'll be having intense, ongoing thoughts about the ways in which this fictional society mirrors this hellscape we are in right now. I look forward to reading more from this author and recommending this book strongly though with clear caveats that prospective readers who are looking to escape the horrors of modern American society need to come back to this one for another reason on another day.
*Special thanks to NetGalley, One World, and Tiffani Ren for this widget, which I received in exchange for an honest review. The opinions expressed here are my own.
The best time to read a dystopian novel is when we're in a state of relative freedom and relative harmony. There are also times like this - which feel like the exact opposite of that aforementioned state - and those moments can make a book like this feel like these events could happen by the end of the week. The most terrifying part for many readers will be the relatability of a culture in which freedoms are held and then suddenly lost. This book made me think...and worry.
There are four central characters who are raised as cousins, but that isn't a fully transparent view of who they are to each other biologically or emotionally. During the span of the novel, in American society, Vietamese citizens are sent to internment camps. It's horrifying to watch the ways in which each of these four characters is impacted by going or not going (there are some exemptions), and it is a brutal choice to have all of them be at the start of their lives: new professionals, new college students, even high school students. What will come of them? Their relationships? Their expected outcomes? And if there is a life after this experience, what will there be to come back TO?
I really enjoyed how this was written, the ways in which this concept came together, and the knowledge that I'll be having intense, ongoing thoughts about the ways in which this fictional society mirrors this hellscape we are in right now. I look forward to reading more from this author and recommending this book strongly though with clear caveats that prospective readers who are looking to escape the horrors of modern American society need to come back to this one for another reason on another day.
*Special thanks to NetGalley, One World, and Tiffani Ren for this widget, which I received in exchange for an honest review. The opinions expressed here are my own.
April 8, 2025
In an imagined near future that eerily parallels our current political climate, a series of terrorist attacks threatens the U.S. When the perpetrators are discovered to be of Vietnamese descent, the American government reacts by instating internment or “relocation� camps across the country to detain Vietnamese Americans in an effort to protect national security and prevent future acts of terrorism.
Rather than solely focusing on this tragedy to propel the novel forward, M� Documents closely follows the four separated siblings of one Vietnamese family as they not only grapple with life inside (and outside) the camps, but as they navigate their relationships with each other, follow their passions, and discover themselves in the process. It’s a story of resilience in the face of a new terrifying reality in a country that no longer feels like home.
Inspired by the all too real historical account of Japanese incarceration during World War II after the attack on Pearl Harbor, the novel is a timely reminder of how racial discrimination and the violation of basic human rights is abhorrent and has no place in society…as well as how easily we can slip into repeating the past.
I love the concept of M� Documents and was engaged throughout, but I do wish that some elements and characters had more time to be fully fleshed out. I’ve seen some surprising early reviews that mention that the events of the book felt implausible, but I disagree, especially considering the egregious acts that are continually being committed against immigrants today. I do however feel that the novel could have dug a bit deeper and added more nuance to the characters, as some dialogue felt forced and superficial. That being said, I would recommend picking this one up if it also sounds interesting to you.
Thank you to @oneworldbooks for sending me this advanced copy in exchange for an honest review
Rather than solely focusing on this tragedy to propel the novel forward, M� Documents closely follows the four separated siblings of one Vietnamese family as they not only grapple with life inside (and outside) the camps, but as they navigate their relationships with each other, follow their passions, and discover themselves in the process. It’s a story of resilience in the face of a new terrifying reality in a country that no longer feels like home.
Inspired by the all too real historical account of Japanese incarceration during World War II after the attack on Pearl Harbor, the novel is a timely reminder of how racial discrimination and the violation of basic human rights is abhorrent and has no place in society…as well as how easily we can slip into repeating the past.
I love the concept of M� Documents and was engaged throughout, but I do wish that some elements and characters had more time to be fully fleshed out. I’ve seen some surprising early reviews that mention that the events of the book felt implausible, but I disagree, especially considering the egregious acts that are continually being committed against immigrants today. I do however feel that the novel could have dug a bit deeper and added more nuance to the characters, as some dialogue felt forced and superficial. That being said, I would recommend picking this one up if it also sounds interesting to you.
Thank you to @oneworldbooks for sending me this advanced copy in exchange for an honest review
April 9, 2025
TW: This novel contains depictions of racial profiling, internment, psychological trauma, and suicide. Reader discretion is advised.
Disclosure: I received an advance review copy of My Documents from Random House Publishing Group via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.
(3.5, rounded up to 4)
’s My Documents is a chillingly plausible dystopian novel that imagines the mass detention of Vietnamese Americans following a coordinated terrorist attack. The government’s sweeping response - pushing families into internment camps under the guise of national security - feels eerily rooted in both past and present American policies.
The story follows four young family members whose lives split along lines of race, privilege, and policy. Jen and Duncan are sent with their mother to Camp Tacoma, where they endure isolation, labor, and surveillance. Ursula and Alvin remain outside - spared, perhaps, by whiteness, corporate protection, or sheer chance. When Jen discovers a way to smuggle information out of the camp, Ursula seizes the opportunity to expose the conditions and elevate her own journalism career in the process.
I’ll be honest: I nearly didn’t finish this book. I put it down for months - the emotionally distant narration and uneven character development in the early chapters made it hard to connect. But picking it back up, I found that the novel’s slow burn pays off in moments of sharp political insight and uneasy emotional truth. The themes of institutionalized racism, media complicity, and the limits of ambition are resonant and thought-provoking, especially in our current climate.
My Documents isn’t an easy read, but it’s a timely and necessary one.
Disclosure: I received an advance review copy of My Documents from Random House Publishing Group via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.
(3.5, rounded up to 4)
’s My Documents is a chillingly plausible dystopian novel that imagines the mass detention of Vietnamese Americans following a coordinated terrorist attack. The government’s sweeping response - pushing families into internment camps under the guise of national security - feels eerily rooted in both past and present American policies.
The story follows four young family members whose lives split along lines of race, privilege, and policy. Jen and Duncan are sent with their mother to Camp Tacoma, where they endure isolation, labor, and surveillance. Ursula and Alvin remain outside - spared, perhaps, by whiteness, corporate protection, or sheer chance. When Jen discovers a way to smuggle information out of the camp, Ursula seizes the opportunity to expose the conditions and elevate her own journalism career in the process.
I’ll be honest: I nearly didn’t finish this book. I put it down for months - the emotionally distant narration and uneven character development in the early chapters made it hard to connect. But picking it back up, I found that the novel’s slow burn pays off in moments of sharp political insight and uneasy emotional truth. The themes of institutionalized racism, media complicity, and the limits of ambition are resonant and thought-provoking, especially in our current climate.
My Documents isn’t an easy read, but it’s a timely and necessary one.
January 26, 2025
My Documents by Kevin Nguyen is a disturbing story set in a near future America that seems more possible by the day. Following a terrible act of domestic terrorism the government makes the decision to intern Vietnamese Americans in camps similar to those used to intern Japanese American citizens during the second world war. The book follows the stories of several members of one family as they deal with some very turbulent times. Jen is a freshman in college while her brother Duncan is the star of his high school football team before both are taken to Camp Tacoma with their mother. Their cousin/half sister ( its complicated) Ursula has a white mother and manages to avoid internment while her brother Alvin was supposed to be interned but was exempted at the request of his employer, Google. Life in Camp Tacoma is difficult, dangerous and often dull so when Jen sees an opportunity to contact Ursula on the outside it sets off a chain of events that will give Ursula her career as an investigative journalist but will also have tragic consequences.
Written in very short chapters, this was a very propulsive read, I found myself fully caught up in the fate of these four young people and their struggles to survive. The book moved very quickly, especially in the beginning and I think this gave an almost overwhelming feeling that mimicked what the characters were going through. There is a lot of social commentary wrapped up in some very good story telling and I enjoyed it very much. The characters felt very believable, and I appreciated that they were well fleshed out with both good and bad traits. That made their struggles much more real and relatable.
I read and reviewed an ARC courtesy of NetGalley and the publisher, all opinions are my own.
Written in very short chapters, this was a very propulsive read, I found myself fully caught up in the fate of these four young people and their struggles to survive. The book moved very quickly, especially in the beginning and I think this gave an almost overwhelming feeling that mimicked what the characters were going through. There is a lot of social commentary wrapped up in some very good story telling and I enjoyed it very much. The characters felt very believable, and I appreciated that they were well fleshed out with both good and bad traits. That made their struggles much more real and relatable.
I read and reviewed an ARC courtesy of NetGalley and the publisher, all opinions are my own.
April 10, 2025
i found this to be a thought-provoking read with an interesting premise and a few unexpected twists and turns. in this political climate, the idea of a state-run detention center seems less and less far-fetched.
most of the characters felt real, and they were certainly flawed like real people. though i felt like i couldn't possibly understand some of the character's choices, i was still compelled to keep reading and find out what would happen next. but duncan and his mother (can't even recall her name) seemed underdeveloped. it could be my fault for being less than excited to read the football passages related to duncan, but why did their mother just feel like a punching bag with no real personality besides being religious? she did have some character growth in the end, however
i enjoyed that the book urges you to think about real issues like racism, journalistic integrity, family values, and asian american identity. however, i did feel like we could have had fewer rhetorical questions that were so *obviously* asked to make the reader think. it felt a little inorganic at times.
i also think the book could have been a bit shorter. i was absorbed in the beginning, but around the 200-page mark, things got a little less interesting for me.
i'm glad the john mccain epigraph didn't turn me away from book. it's worth the read!
most of the characters felt real, and they were certainly flawed like real people. though i felt like i couldn't possibly understand some of the character's choices, i was still compelled to keep reading and find out what would happen next. but duncan and his mother (can't even recall her name) seemed underdeveloped. it could be my fault for being less than excited to read the football passages related to duncan, but why did their mother just feel like a punching bag with no real personality besides being religious? she did have some character growth in the end, however
i enjoyed that the book urges you to think about real issues like racism, journalistic integrity, family values, and asian american identity. however, i did feel like we could have had fewer rhetorical questions that were so *obviously* asked to make the reader think. it felt a little inorganic at times.
i also think the book could have been a bit shorter. i was absorbed in the beginning, but around the 200-page mark, things got a little less interesting for me.
i'm glad the john mccain epigraph didn't turn me away from book. it's worth the read!
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